


What not to do at Dinner

by CardnialCopiaReadsYourSlashToRepent



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Car Sex, Confessions, Dom/sub, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal makes many mistakes, Heavy BDSM, Hospital Sex, Hurt Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Crawford Being Jack Crawford, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Consensual Drug Use, S&M, Someone Help Will Graham, They make soup as foreplay, Will Graham & Beverly Katz Friendship, You Have Been Warned, theres a lot of soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardnialCopiaReadsYourSlashToRepent/pseuds/CardnialCopiaReadsYourSlashToRepent
Summary: Will comes over to Hannibal's house for dinner after unintentionally agreeing to. What could happen?He trusts Hannibal.Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was up till 3 this morning listening to S&M by Rihanna and thought I'd try my hand at my first smut fanfic. Why not, right? We only live once. If my lineage sees that their ancestor has made gay serial killer fanfiction then so be it. I'm living my best life, it's not like they can stop me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Slaps computer screen*  
This bad boy can fit so much plot into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They Make Soup

“When I motioned to second, I never knew I was agreeing to this.” Will Graham gestured to the extravagant table laid out in Hannibal’s dining room. Earlier that day the Empath walked into the autopsy room to find Jack but instead found Katz and Hannibal arguing over a corpse. Since Will happened to be in the doorway, Hannibal asked for him to settle the dispute. The doctor made it clear that Will could either agree with him or Katz, leaving clarification about why out the window.

Will instinctively chose Hannibal. He was his shrink, his friend, and someone who had proven on multiple occasions to be the smartest person in the room. Will supposed that whatever they were going on about, Hannibal was probably the ladder of the two.

However, he didn’t think that they were talking about him.

‘Fuck’, Katz had exclaimed, playfully punching Hannibal in the arm. ‘Guess that settles it then’. The pair shook on it and Hannibal winked at Will before joining him on his renewed search for Jack.

“And, despite that, you still agreed with me.” Hannibal pulled the closest chair out of the table and Will sat down. The psychologist removed himself from the chair and walked to the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. Looking back to say, “Besides, you made a good decision. If you chose Katz you’d probably be at a Chili’s right about now.”

Will laugh at that. Katz was fond of margaritas, potato skins, and other middle-class luxuries. She had dragged him places like Chili’s and Outback on multiple occasions. Will liked the idea of going out but he had to admit that Hannibal had ruined his admiration of restaurants with his home-cooking. He agreed that this was a better decision. 

Hannibal came back into the room caring two wine glasses and a bottle of Bordeaux. Will didn’t expect any less. The psychologist handed him his respected crystal and topped it off with red wine.

“Do you ever eat out?” Will asked Hannibal.

“No. Most restaurants in Baltimore don’t fit my criteria.” He paused to take a sip. “I like to know what I eat.”

“I understand.” Will shrugged. He thought it was a little odd, but Hannibal wasn’t a regular person. Will knew a couple of people who had similar affinities towards food. There was a kid in his high school that only ate fish and Will had once tried going Vegan later to discover he liked Big Macs more than salads. “I don’t really put that much thought into what I eat but I can understand not wanting to ingest something I don’t trust.”

“You trust my cooking?”

Will looked at Hannibal a little confused, “Yeah. I trust your cooking.” He cocked an eyebrow before continuing,” You wouldn’t give me anything you yourself wouldn’t eat.”

Hannibal chuckled. “That’s true.”

“And, if you were trying to kill me you would’ve done it by now.”

“That’s true too. Socrates was executed with wine and Hemlock - if I wanted to kill you right now, that would be it.”

The empath frowned before putting his glass down. Hannibal was more than capable of killing someone. Especially Graham. Will thought for a moment. Hannibal was almost everywhere in his life. He depended on him as a psychiatrist and a friend. If Hannibal ever wanted to murder him, he could, but here they were, across from one another having a lovely time.

Will wondered if Hannibal murdered him if Jack would ever find out.

He shook off that thought, a little guilty for thinking about it and started the conversation up again. “So, what was that fight all about? I know it had something to do with me.”

Hannibal placed his drink down and gave Will a small smile, “You’ll know by tomorrow.”

“That’s a little ominous.”

“Is that intimidating?” Hannibal responded quickly. Will grimaced.

“No. Just a little cryptic.”

“I thought you trusted me.”

Will gestured to the wine. “I trust you won’t poison me, yeah, but other than that you’re still pretty illusive to me.”

“Illusive.” Hannibal rolled the word around his mouth. “Why would I be illusive to you? We know each other for a couple of months now.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but you say odd things sometimes.” He muscled up the courage to drink from his glass so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

“If you knew me a little better would that make you more comfortable?”

Will nodded. “Maybe.”

Hannibal got up from his spot at the table and waved Will into the kitchen. Will hesitantly followed. The doctor brought him over to the stove were two cuts of (Pork?) were slowly roasting in a cast-iron skillet. He took a spatula from a drawer and flipped them to examine their color. Golden brown with little speckles of char over the edges. Will licked his lips.

“That looks good.”

“I get all my meat locally. I’m friends with some butchers that prepare it, but I mostly do the butchering myself.” Hannibal glanced from the pork to his guest. “I’m very possessive over who makes my food.”

Will gulped audibly. “It’s good to be passionate about something.” Hannibal leveled himself down to look into the oven and Will joined him on the floor. “What’s that?”

“Potatoes. Sweet potatoes. We still have a little while till they are done so I thought it was the perfect opportunity to make the rest of the meal. You wouldn’t mind helping me, would you?”

“I haven’t made dinner in a long time, Hannibal. I wouldn’t want to ruin your good food.”

Hannibal raised himself and gave Will another chuckle. “You wouldn’t ruin it. I’ll show you.” He sauntered over to a pantry where he grabbed a collection of spices and placed them on to the island in the middle of the kitchen. Then he excavated the fridge and removed a head of cabbage and some carrots. Hannibal took a cutting board and put the cabbage flat on its stem in the center. “Take that knife behind you and come over here.”

Will turned around to see an array of knives. Confused by which one Hannibal meant, he took the most appealing knife there.

“Not that one, that’s a pairing knife. You see the big one without the flat edge, the Chef’s knife, get that one.”

Will swiveled to get the right knife and after a second or two he finally got the one Hannibal asked for before giving it to his host. Hannibal edged the stainless steel down the head of the cabbage, splitting it in half, cutting the halves into quarters, and then destemming the quarters by cutting a diagonal line down the vegetable's core.

“Come here,” Hannibal called for Will and Will stopped eye-balling his host’s handy work to step into his space. Hannibal placed the knife into Will’s right hand and grabbed his wrist. “You see how the flat part is against the board? Cut the cabbage till you feel the knife barely touching the wood.” He guided Will’s hand for the first slice and let go to see how the empath would perform on his own.

Will grasped the solid end of the head and made a couple of barbaric cuts. He was never a man of grace. As he made his way to the last of the quarter, he spied that Hannibal was patiently waiting for him to finish.

“How did I do?”

Hannibal covered his mouth, thinking about what to say.

“Well, you’ll never work as a Sous chef, but,” Hannibal pointed towards the demolished quarter. “you are fast.” He brought a big soup pot out of the cabinet, filled it half full of water, and scooped up the shredded cabbage into it. Will continued his work as Hannibal placed the pot on the stove and brought it to a boil. “I’ve always made my own food. When I was younger, I lived in Romania with my family out in the wilderness. We got our meat from our neighbor and my father’s garden provided us with the rest. I try my best to work my own garden to the height my father had his, but I don’t have the time, so I grow only herbs. Minimal effort plants.”

Will can’t remember the last plant he ever tried to grow. He never had an interest in botany nor did he really like dirt. He could raise something, he proved that with his kennel of dogs, but he could walk a dog. Couldn’t do much with a plant. “I saw your collection of them in the other room. It’s impressive.”

“I try.” Hannibal retorted, picking up the rest of the cabbage and drenching them in the pot. The oven chimed and Will stopped his attack on the vegetable to see Hannibal pull the potatoes out. He unwrapped them from their tinfoil cocoons and with a pair of tongs, putting them off to the side. “You’ll cut those up when they cool off. Don’t want you to burn yourself.” Hannibal placed a hand on the small of Will’s back as he edged around him to place the tongs in the sink. Will flinched at the sudden contact but relaxed into the touch just as Hannibal took his hand away.

Crashing out of his thoughts, Will coughed into his elbow. “Do you want me to cut up the carrots?”

“No, I need to peel them first.” Will extended them toward his host and Hannibal brushed his fingers through his as he took the carrots. His guest blushed. Will thought he shouldn’t act like this in front of his psychiatrist. That he shouldn’t be flustered over a little touch. Will Graham was an adult; he should keep his infatuations to himself.

Hannibal noticed his hue and smiled.

“Do you like carrots, Will? They're one of my favorites.”

Will straightened himself out and failed to return Hannibal’s stature. “Yes.” He spat out with a nervous tick.

“Good.” Still keeping eye contact with Will, Hannibal took a peeler from the drawer and rake it across the carrot’s skin. That was intimidating. “Do you have any preference?”

“What?” Will forgot what they were talking about.

“Your carrots.” Hannibal continued his work without looking at it. “Do you like them glazed? I’m accustomed to them in brown sugar and cinnamon, but not tonight. Maybe another time I’ll be able to treat you to that.”

“Another time?” Will looked away to check the potatoes but Hannibal’s aggressive peeling made it hard not to stare.

“Yes. I’m sure that after tonight you’ll be back again.”

“For your infamous cabbage soup?”

“Will.” Hannibal placed the naked carrot onto the cutting board and snaked a hand to the chef’s knife. “I would never give you the gift of repetition. I feel like you can appreciate that.”

“Humans are creatures of habit, Hannibal. If you ever did the same thing twice, we might actually become friends.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I don’t find solace in doing the same thing more than once. It’s more exciting to do stuff you’re not comfortable with. You get more out of life that way.” He placed a hand over Will’s. “You know how to cut up a carrot or do you want me to show you?”

Will blinked.

“Sure. Show me how.” Hannibal pressed himself into Will’s side and shifted his weight so he wasn’t leaning onto him as he moved the two hands together to cut the root. His guest shuddered at the feeling of Hannibal looming over him. If He noticed him, he didn’t mention it. “Thankfully, I like my carrots boiled.” His host moved his face to look down on Will.

“Good.” Will felt his breath curl in the shell of his ear. Electricity went up the base of his spine.

Hannibal released Will after a few more cuts. Will missed the touch. They spent more time than Will liked in silence as Hannibal continued to peel carrots and he diced them for the soup. Will thought if he worked really slow if he could get Hannibal to help him out again. He didn’t like the cold absence.

“Have you always liked your carrots boiled?” Hannibal broke into the quiet.

“No.” Will wondered why they were still talking about this. “I started to like them that way recently. Use to like them straight.”

“Straight?” Hannibal stopped peeling. “I never took you as that type of person.”

“What type of person?”

Hannibal placed the last carrot next to the cutting board and positioned himself so he could speed up Will preparations. “The straight type of person.” He whispered. Will breathed heavily as his host’s chest felt hard against his back and his strong arms held him in place. He could cut carrots for hours. Hannibal was lean. Not the most muscular man around but he was built like an ox. Will could tell that besides gardening, that the doctor was definitely working out.

“What were you and Katz arguing about?” Will asked a little bit too eagerly.

Hannibal didn’t respond, instead, moving away from Will to check on the pork. Will sighed into his vegetables before using them as an excuse to invite himself over to the stove so he could be closer to Hannibal.

“It’s just, you know, I’ve never seen you mad.”

“I can change that.”

“What?”

“You have an opinion of me, Will. Just as I have an opinion of you. I’d like your thoughts of me to be preferable. All you got to do is tell me what you’d like to see. I can be illusive, I can be mad, but how does that make you feel?”

“God.” Will was taken aback. “I don’t want you to think that I want to change you, Hannibal. You’re illusive, sure, but you’re also elegant and well put together. I don’t care what you are, I was just wondering what could get you so riled up.” Hannibal seemed to be satisfied with that response and he aided Will with the soup.

“That’s nice to hear.” He got the spices from the island and shook paprika, garlic powder, and salt over the pot. “We weren’t arguing, per se. We have a wager, her and I. We kept you out of it because we’d like to make it only amongst us only. I’m sorry but I must withhold it from you, Will, out of the sake of Katz’s privacy.”

Will nodded seldomly. What could Hannibal have with Katz that Will couldn’t provide? They were all friends. Maybe Hannibal saw Katz more so as someone to talk to. Will was one of his patients, after all, maybe he’d like to keep their relationship more professional. Will didn’t like that though, but it was a possibility. “I see.”

“I’m glad. Just wait, you’ll find out soon.”

“You keep saying that. If I’m going to eventually find out, why can’t I know now? It’ll save a lot of yours and my time.” Hannibal blinked at him for a moment before smiling innocently.

“That’s the dilemma. If I told you the wager would be ruined.”

“Oh. The wager _was_ about me.” Will statement came out more like a question. Hannibal shook his head.

“No, not exactly. It’s a timed experiment. Me or her. I’m glad you chose me.”

“And this wager ends tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Hannibal flipped the pork and saw that they matched the opposite side, stepping into Will’s personal bubble to grab a plate from the cupboard. “That is -,” He trapped Will into the corner of the kitchen, plate in one hand and the other grasping the granite countertop. He leaned into Will’s ear. “- if I win.”

Will braced himself, hand clenching the counter behind him as well. Expecting Hannibal to do something. Something that he wouldn’t do again. Fleeting, Hannibal leaned back and took the pork off the stove and deposited the pan into the sink. Will was left in his corner by expectations he never thought he had. After what could have been a minute, maybe an hour, Will returned to the potatoes to cut them up. He tried to stop himself from daydreaming about what could have been but the thoughts lingered.

Was Hannibal hitting on him? Was that why he asked him to dinner? Were he and Katz trying to see who could get into his pants the quickest? If that was so then Hannibal would’ve skipped all this foreplay and just fucked him. It was obvious that Will wanted him. He made him want like nobody had before. Surely, Hannibal could see that. Hannibal had to have known that he turned Will into playdough with just his touch.

“I appear to be in a bit of a situation, Will,” Hannibal said from his hiding spot in the pantry. Will reluctantly removed himself from the potatoes and walked over to the door to see what Hannibal was up to. “I know we already have enough food for a meal, but I was wondering if you’d like dessert too? I don’t want to keep you even more than I have to if you have better things to do tonight.”

“No. No, dessert sounds fine. What did you have in mind?” Hannibal picked up a decorate box from one of the shelves and handed it to Will. ‘Kaju Katli’ was written on the parcel in long, cursive font and swastikas lined themselves around the rim. “Is this how you come out to me as a Nazi?”

Hannibal chuckled. “I’m am everything but a Nazi. Do you know that swastikas are Indian in origin? This box is from Bangladesh. Clockwise the symbol means good luck, counter-clockwise is the Nazis. Kaju Katli is a cashew bar with silver foil and pistachios on top. They are quite delightful; You must try them.” Hannibal popped the lid off to show an equally ornate design of little metallic diamonds forming a star-shaped pattern. Picking one up, he offered it to Will.

“No thanks. I’m going to wait till after dinner.” His host frowned but took the bar back and cautiously put it back into its place.

“So be it. I’m going to put this on the island for now. Are you done with the cutting?”

“Yeah. Do you need me to do anything else?”

Hannibal put his hand to his face in contemplation. “I’ll carve the pork and watch the soup if you would please set the table. Don’t be afraid to look at some wine too. Lord knows we could use some more.”

“Damn straight.” Will retorted before going to grab some silver wear. The table was already mostly dressed. The place holders had their wine glasses, plates, and a whole bouquet of random but seemingly ornament things hosted the walnut mesa. Will wondered why they were there. He saw what he thought was grapes in the ribcage of a cat and grimaced at the macabre scene. Will preferred his table’s to be virtually empty except for his plate, a glass, and a fork. He put the silver wear into their spots, careful not to touch the skeleton/fruit decoration.

Without a word, Will snuck into the wine cellar.

He underestimated its opulence. Barrels stacked against the wall and bottles on bottles of wine from white to rosé to red (color coordinated and arranged by date). The poor FBI consultant laughed at the magnitude of it. He had never seen so much booze in his life. If everything turned out peaches and cream between him and Hannibal, he had to come back, if only to get drunk.

Will smiled to himself as he spied a bottle of red Abkhazian spirits and brought it back out to the dining room.

Hannibal was rearranging the spoons as he entered. Will rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I’m just so used to only having one utensil at the table.”

“Don’t be sorry. I see you have an eye for fine wine.” He pointed to the bottle in Will’s hand.

“I thought it had a cool label.” Hannibal chuckled at Will’s ignorance and Will couldn’t help but be infected by it, joining him in laughter. His host fixed the table before inviting him back into the kitchen.

“You are simply adorable.”

Will was scarlet. He thought he probably looked like a lobster. “Thank you?”

“You are. Rustic charm aside, I’m surprised you don’t have people throwing themselves at you.”

“I’m not really a people person, Hannibal. You know that.”

“I know. I know. It’s just, well, the way you open up to those close to you convinces me that you are quite the catch, Will Graham. Any women would be happy to have you.”

Will shrugged. “I,” He had never told anyone before that he was gay. His dad kind of knew, but was afraid to admit it, and Will suspected that Jack knew too since he was never scared of him hound dogging female co-workers. Maybe the autism thing played a role in it as well. People were more likely to ignore him because they knew he was odd. Most people were turned off by it, but Will didn’t care. If they didn’t like him because of something he was born with, then they didn’t need to be in his life. “I’m not really a woman type of guy.”

“Oh, I would have never figured.” The sarcasm in Hannibal’s voice thick. “Is that why you have not returned Alana Bloom’s affections? She has a thing for you. Most women you work with have told me that they do.”

“Really?” Will questioned.

“Indeed. I’m not lying when I say that when news breaks, people are going to be disappointed. That is if you’d like me to tell them. If you want to keep this between us, I’d be happy to oblige your request.”

“I’d like it if this was just a thing between me and you.”

“Pardon?”

Will about died on the spot. “I mean, I’d like if you wouldn’t say anything to anyone else. I get enough flack for being mentally unstable I don’t need anyone picking on me cause I’m gay as well.”

Hannibal ladled the soup out of the pot and into two bowls, looking back from his work to Will hesitantly. “I won’t allow anyone to hurt you, Will. You're too precious.” Will laughed.

“I don’t need your pity. I’m fine, really. I’m a man.” Will puffed his chest out and anchored his fist to his hips in a power stance. Hannibal looked at him a little disappointed at the display of power.

“I’ll abide by your wishes.” Was all he said as he continued his duty. When he finished, the doctor topped off the bowls with edges of the pork and he carried them over to the table with Will tailing him in his shadow. “I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting. Here we are, dinner.”

His guest considerately placed a spoon into the soup and blew on it. Hannibal looked at him as he took the first bite. Will’s eyes went wide.

“This is delicious!”

“Thank you, Will. Food always tastes better when you have put the effort in to make it. I’m happy that you helped.” Hannibal didn’t touch his bowl.

Will ate in silence for ten minutes before he perked up from his dish to admire Hannibal’s cooking some more. He couldn’t believe he had a hand in making this heavenly meal. They say the quickest way into a man’s heart is through his stomach, and by God, was Hannibal making him go head over heels. Will took a sip of his wine before continuing. “This is truly fabulous. You must have put crack in it to make it taste this good.”

“Something like that.”

“Pardon?” It was Will’s turn to be confused.

“The pork is laced with flunitrazepam. Eat too much and it’ll put you into a coma.”

Will laughed nervously. “Weird joke, Hannibal. Still on about Socrates?” They stared at each other for a while, gaging the other's reaction.

“In all seriousness, Will. I do implore you to stop before you pass out.”

Will got up from his seat but found that his legs wouldn’t carry him, falling to the floor. Hannibal got up just as fast to prevent him from hitting his head. “Why are you doing this?” Will pleaded with slurred speech as the drug made its way into his bloodstream. He wanted to cry but his face felt numb with the sudden movement. Hannibal brushed a hand through his hair, playing with his curls as the empath slowly blacked out.

Hannibal embraced Will. “There, there, Graham. It’s just a bad dream.” He spoke to no one in particular.

After thirty minutes of holding the drugged-out private investigator, Hannibal attempted to sling him over his shoulder to carry him upstairs but hit Will against the table with a heavy whack. “Oh, fuck.” He cursed as he tried a new approach. Hannibal grabbed one end of the carpet runner in the dining room and slowly moved Will across the room, stopping only when they were at the bottom of the stairs.

This would be the tricky part. Will Graham wasn’t a heavy guy, but Hannibal didn’t want to risk bumping him again in fear that he’d give his guest a concussion. Hannibal wanted Will to sentient for what he had planned for him. Thankfully, the psychiatrist was blessed with owning a house with a dumbwaiter. He knew that a dumbwaiter couldn’t carry a regular person, but Will was skinny enough to fit into it so Hannibal hoped that he was light enough so that the rope wouldn't snap.

Hannibal pressed the button to activate the lift and waited with bated breath as it carried the sleeping man up to the second story. Hearing the bell of reassurance, he quickly ran up the stairs and opened the lift to see the body still in one piece.

Hannibal didn’t want to think that his precious Will Graham as another corpse right now, but the thought stuck out to him as he saw his guest’s pale complexion.

Something was wrong. Did he give him too much? Was Will allergic? His fear was recognized as a thick foam began to leak out of the corners of Graham’s mouth. “Oh, fuck.” He repeated as he removed the body out of the dumbwaiter and rolled him over onto his side.

The trauma from hitting the table in his dilapidated state was causing Will to seize. Hannibal moved Will out onto another carpet out in the open so he’d have a semi-comfortable place to rest while the seizure ran its course. In the meantime, Hannibal cleaned the table and used Lysol to degerm the lift. When he came back upstairs thirty minutes later Will was snoring contently.

This was what he thrived on. Weakness. A fawn in the meadow. Fish on land. Will Graham post-seizure on his floor. Dreaming sweet dreams. Hannibal wondered if he was dreaming of him.

He was awfully telling in the kitchen. Will trusted Hannibal with his secrets. Hannibal knew Will liked him, but he would prove his affections when he woke. Now, he carefully inched Will into the guest bedroom, trying his best not to hit him anything again.

“Will, your so adorable. What do you dream about? Do you see your dogs? Do you see me? Do you see Katz? You chose me, so I’d hope you don’t see Katz.” Hannibal was full of questions but Will didn’t answer him. He knew that his inquiries were on deaf ears but he continues anyway as he laid Graham onto the bed. “I hope you like silk, it’s the only type of sheet I use.”

Hannibal pulled off the covers and used them as ropes to bound Will to the bed frame. “I hope you also like mahogany. I do have a couple of cherry frames but it seems like this one was the closest. You must tell me when you get up if you like the room. I can move you into another one if you find it distasteful.”

Will’s head lulled back onto the pillow and Hannibal smiled to himself as he drew the curtains to the windows closed. Couldn’t have neighbors seeing this. He realized that whenever Graham woke, he could probably escape from the loose make-shift restraints. Hannibal didn’t want him to do something rash so he left to go grab zip ties from the garage.

In a haze, Will opened his eyes and considered his new surroundings with drunken awareness. He didn’t know what was going on and the drug would keep it that way until he was sober.

Will rolled his head to the side and giggled at the feeling of silk brushing his wrist. He was stuck but he wasn’t scared. Hannibal came in an hour later with more supplies and cocked an eyebrow at the hysterical private investigator.

“You seem happy.”

“Doctor.” Will greeted him.

“Will.” Hannibal removed the bedsheets and roped the plastic ties in their stead.

“Lik'd the other ones.” 

“I know you do, but you have to have these.” Hannibal thought about an explanation but, if he was going to be honest to Will he might as well just go through with it. “I don’t want you escaping.”

“Okay.” Graham nodded lazily. Hannibal zip tied the other hand and both feet before lacing the silk over them to hid the grizzly devices.

“Soft,” Will stated.

“Do you want another pillow?”

“Good.” Will slurred.

Hannibal realized that it probably wasn’t a good idea to mix drugs and alcohol but if this was always the outcome - he’d have to try it on everyone he knew. “Goodnight, Will.”

And with that Hannibal turned off the lights and closed the door so Will could sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal makes MANY mistakes.  
Warning: Blood/Gore and non-con.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this isn't your cup of tea, I'm so sorry.  
There will be a consensual scene in the next chapter if ya'll want it.

Will woke up dazed and confused. His head hurt and with the feeling of restraints on his hands and feet, he began to groan lazily. He didn’t recognize the room he was in. All Will remember from last night was carrots, cat skeletons, and Hannibal. He didn’t quite comprehend what was going on but he had the prickling sensation that it wasn’t good. 

From his angle, Will didn’t see the bedroom door open.

“Damn,” Will stated as he attempted to undo the obstacle binding his wrist.

“Will.” Hannibal greeted him, he carried a covered platter over to the bedside table and placed it down with a metallic click. Will eyed the contains. Knives. Lots of knives. 

“What you going to do with those knives, Hannibal?” Will asked a little more than concerned.

“Don’t be scared, Will, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.” He took his fingers and felt up Graham’s form till he reached his jaw, cradling the private investigator’s face in his steady hands. Will’s body betrayed him in his vulnerable state and he leaned into the touch. “You like being touched, don’t you?” He ran his other hand down his forehead and moved some of the bangs out of Will’s face. The empath’s eyes rolled back. Hannibal smiled, satisfied with the reaction.

“Hannibal -,” Will spoke hoarsely.

“Don't want to talk, Graham, don’t force yourself to. Just smile and nod.”

“Hannibal.”

“Dear.” Hannibal forced Will’s eyes to meet his own. “I want to make this as enjoyable for you as it’s going to be for me.” He released him from his grip and took to examining some of the knives. “You seemed to admire the pairing knife. I have a Victorinox. Same people who make Swiss Army knives. Is that why you like it? I took you for the outdoorsy type but a utilitarian?”

Will whimpered “What are you going to do?”

“I'm giving in.” He brought the knife to Will’s throat and plastered the other into his hair to smash him against the headboard. Graham felt the pinpricks of the blade’s edge against the bare skin of his Adam’s apple. He groaned at the pain of his headache mixing in with the force. Will knew this was how people died. He’d seen hundreds of people with their throats sliced. Columbian neckties and just the run-of-the-mill killer shit. You didn’t need the expertise to know that it was the easiest and most painful way to bleed someone.

Hannibal pressed the knife deeper into his skin and Will felt his blood ooze as the doctor made his way through the muscle. 

“It’s so refreshing. Seeing blood. It’s not really bright red, is it? You’re not getting enough air into your system. Why don't you calm down? I want to see the color change.”

Scared shitless, Will tried to steady his breathing but found he couldn’t stop hyperventilating.

“Will,” Hannibal removed the knife from his throat and smeared a hand through the crimson liquid. Bringing it up to show Will, who promptly swore he’d never breathe easy again. “Look at it. You’re the color of garnets. It’s beautiful, Will, that this gem is just beneath your skin. Each person has a different hue but you're perfect, Will, simply divine.” Hannibal touched his messy hand to his face and let the hot blood leave a print.

Will looked at the image on Hannibal’s face and felt all types of wrong.

"I don’t want this,” Will said quickly.

Hannibal looked disappointed, laughing hoarsely.

“I only thought you liked things a little extreme." Hannibal let the investigator loll. "I’m sorry, let me clean you up.” He placed the paring knife back in its order with the others before bringing a washcloth up to Will’s neck. It was warm with water and it was the only thing bring Will into submission.

Hannibal took his time cleaning. He enjoyed the act of manicuring, and it was a treat to do it to something he loved so much. It was almost like cleaning a new Porsche. The shiny glint of wet sheet metal glistening up at him was Will’s pale skin, the wear of the model the ruby of his injury. Will groaned at the sensation.

Maybe Will wasn’t a rough Satanism and Masochism guy, but he had a thing for being dominated. Hannibal moved his head into the crook of the private investigator's neck and breathed onto his clavicle. 

Will shuddered. “Hannibal.” He pleaded. Hannibal licked a line from the bone to Will’s jaw, causing the younger man to moan explicitly.

“You taste salty, dear.” Hannibal whispered softly, “You’re sweating. Let me help you.” He put the red towel down next to Will’s head before carefully unbuttoning his prisoner’s shirt. “Humans sweat out of every part of the body an equal amount. The more surface area exposed to a colder environment the quicker you’ll cool off.” Will didn’t say anything as his psychiatrist undressed him slowly. He didn't do anything but watch.

Hannibal had to admit that he didn’t expect Will to be as skinny as he was. Ribs protruded from his chest and hip bones were poking out from the small of his stomach. He made a mental note in his mind to make an effort to bring him over for dinner more often.

Will calmed down enough to oblige Hannibal by lifting up his back so he could better remove his shirt. "There you go." Hannibal put a hand in the hollow of his frame and curved his fingers around the knobs and hinges that made up Will Graham. Discarding the button-up over his shoulder, Hannibal trailed his delicate hands over him.

“Fuck!” Will spat and blood sprayed out of the wound in his throat, coating the wall beside him in an arterial Pollock.

Hannibal grabbed the towel and looped it around the cut. “Don’t speak.” He looked at the wall to see how much damage he caused. He considered it might stain the wallpaper but he could always take off a day or two off from work to redecorate. Besides, who cares about how the guest bedroom looks? He shifted his focus back to Will Graham who, all sprawled out, open like he was, seemed more like a projection of his inmost fantasies than of any real man.

The shrink crawled up onto the bed and straddled the private investigator’s waist, letting an eager growl escape through his teeth. Will wiggled underneath his weight but Hannibal paid no mind to his struggle, draping himself over the smaller man. He laced his hands around his wrists and anchored him down onto the bed, biting a line into his shoulder as he slowly made his way up. Will breathed out a pained breath as Hannibal’s teeth buried their way into him, intent on marking him.

“Uhnnq.” Will gurgled in pleasure. Hannibal smiled, grinding down on him. “Ha-Han,”

Hannibal cut him off as he placed his hand over Will’s mouth. The empath moaned against his slender fingers. “Give in, Graham. If you don’t be quiet, I’ll be forced to silence you myself.

“I’m – m – choking.” Will croaked. Hannibal was to busy licking the edge of the wound to care. Will began pounding his head against the pillow in hopes of thrashing Hannibal off.

In defense, Hannibal brought himself off of Will and attached his mouth to Will’s. Tasting the copper on his tongue as he kissed him deeply. “Oh,” He declared. “You’re being serious.” He quickly got off of him and rolled him onto his side.

The private investigator coughed out blood onto the silk sheets, permeant staining them with his crimson flood. He must have cut the jugular veins but he couldn’t be sure if he slit the windpipe too. If Hannibal wasn’t quick enough, too much fluid would make its way back into Will’s lungs and he would drown.

This was a mess. Hannibal knew he was at fault for taking it to far, and now he feared that his beloved would die at the hands of his lust. He went into doctor mode. More blood began to leak out of the wound and Hannibal stabilized Will’s head between two pillows and applied pressure.

He couldn’t call the cops. That was out of the question. He had to do save Graham by himself or not at all.

“Will, I need to assess if I accidentally cut your windpipe, dear. Please talk to me.”

“Hann – ibal.” Will shouted between labored breaths before promptly fainting.

“Shit,” Hannibal exclaimed. He slapped Will hard, trying to revive him.

Will gasped. “Hannibal.” Looking up at the frantic doctor. Hannibal looked down at him with astonishment. He’d only seen that move work in movies. Funny how much you can learn from TV. “Hannibal,” Will repeated a little clearer.

The angle allowed his throat to drip dryer and the towel made for a successful make-shift lining for his disconnected arteries. “Will. Just like that. Keep talking to me.”

“W – why did you do thi – is?” Will was still stretched out in his compromised position and Hannibal sympathized with his confusion, but he didn’t respond to him. “Hannibal,” Will called out. “Why?”

Hannibal continued to apply pressure. Staring into Will’s fearful eyes. “You know why.”

Will choked out a sob. “I do – don’t want to die lik – this.” Hannibal could only imagine what was going through Will’s mind right now. He had to insure Will - he felt an obligation to.

“It’s okay, Will. I wouldn’t let it happen.” He let one of his hands feel up the broken man’s jaw. Will closed his eyes at the sensation and a tear streamed down his face. Hannibal let himself be distracted by it and he kissed the weakness off his cheek. “It wouldn’t be endearing.” The psychiatrist let out a strained laugh. The private investigator didn’t return his humor.

“Hannibal.” He said weakly. “Please.” Then Will passed out again. Hannibal thought it was probably for the better. He deduced that his windpipe wasn’t open and though he could still choke on his own blood, at least it wouldn’t be pouring into him as quickly as it could be. As long as he kept him elevated and his throat closed, it was more than likely he would survive. Hannibal removed himself from Will’s side to go grab some ketamine, a needle, and thread.

He was scared that taking the pressure off the cut would cause it to reopen, but Hannibal saw when he returned that the incision was managing itself just fine.

The Doctor pumped him full of more drugs and replaced the merlot washcloth on the wound with medical-grade bandages that allowed water to pass through easier than the cotton towel. It sort of cleaned most of the blood off of Will’s chest but if Hannibal wanted Will’s injuries to heal properly, he needed to make sure it was dressed properly with water and soap. Running a wet sponge around the area, Hannibal liberally washed the now candy apple liquid.

Will was finally circulating oxygenated blood. Hannibal found solace in the color. It reassured him that if his actions weren't in vain, at least, it would mean that Will would die peacefully. Hannibal wouldn’t be able to live if Will passed away like this, but it was better than dying in pain. He took a bar of Ivory soap and carefully pressed it against Will’s fragile skin.

He remembered Will telling him he was elegant, and he hoped that the younger man would agree that no expense should be spared in saving his life. Plus, he knew what was in it. Wouldn’t want Will to not have the best.

Before he performed any further, Hannibal checked the laceration again to clarify if it was a deep cut. He spied the layers of tissue as the cut pulsed with the broken rhyme of Will’s heart. Hannibal’s face flattened as he realized that he’d need more than a few stitches.

In a hurry, Hannibal put on latex gloves. He kept them in every room. There wasn’t a time when he didn’t need classic hospital mittens. He even snuck a couple of pairs into Quantico and Will’s house, but he doubted that he would ever get the chance to uses them if he failed this procedure.

Grabbing a pair of needle drivers, sterilized needle and thread, he prepared to suture the wound.

Hannibal pushed the needle in at a ninety-degree angle, careful not to puncture the fatty layer between the windpipe and the cut veins. Pulling it through with the driver, he took the thread with an inch of excess and tied it off in a double knot. He cut the excess off and prepared for the next stitch. It took about an hour to fully put the incision together. Hannibal checked if all the knots were tied off on the same side (left side) and wiped the sweat of his brow.

He still had his bloody handprint on his face.

It smudged with the touch of the latex and went into his eye. Cursing, Hannibal went into the guest bathroom to rinse it out. After minutes of trying and failing to get the blood off his face, he got Will’s stained soap and reluctantly brushed it up and down. It wasn’t working well, Hannibal had to admit to himself, but he liked how it was odor-free. He didn’t want the metallic smell of dried blood to linger on his person. He wouldn’t want Will to remember this.

Hannibal was finally figuring out what to do if all of this went down. He’d first make sure that Will’s sutures are unnoticeable and that all the evidence that rattled him from this event were miraculously gone.

Then he’d burn his house down. It would get rid of the props to his surgery, that was true, but it was awfully dramatic and would draw the attention of the police.

Wouldn’t want that, Hannibal thought. He would probably have to deliberate on more ideas.

When he exited the bathroom, the spillage from the wound was almost nonexistent. The taller man rolled Will onto his other side and removed the sheets out from under him. He took the diver and cut the zip ties binding the empath. Will fell dead onto the bed.

Hannibal loved it.

Will looked like a renaissance piece. Tousled hair. Shirtless. Wrist, ankles, and neck a nice cherry. Cloaked in brick-colored silk that uses to be tan. It was beautiful. He wanted to take a picture, make it last longer than it did, but that would be evidence and he would eventually have to destroy it.

He’d have to draw it out.

It would give him something to do while he waited for Will to return to consciousness and he could pass it on as cryptic imagery. People could appreciate that. His beloved could appreciate that.

Hannibal left Will to sleep and retrieved his sketch pad from the first-floor parlor. He found a clock in the hallway that read five fifty-nine. Was that all one night? Hannibal was impressed. It was the fastest he ever sutured a person and by far the prettiest. He would have to reward himself. Hannibal thought he might splurge.

“Will Graham,” Hannibal spoke into the silence. “Oh, Will, my masterpiece, my magnum opus, we must go to see the movies sometimes. If you ever forgive me, I’d love to go with you.” He ascended the stairs in a giddy fit and burst into the guest bedroom.

Will was still fast asleep on the bed. Perfect.

The psychiatrist pulled a chair out from the corner and moved it so he could get a full view of the scene. With light strokes of his pencil, Hannibal slowly etched it onto paper.

It was a shame he didn’t get to have his fun, he thought. Didn’t even get his pants off. However, this would have to do. Hannibal reassured himself that there would always be a next time. Maybe he could turn this into a little excursion. Though, if Graham preferred it without all the blood, he could surely fit it to his fancy.

He could see himself on top of the skinny man, pinning him down onto the walnut table in the dining room. Hannibal would furiously smash his head down with the impact of his kisses, knocking the decorative assortment on his table to the floor as he used the whole space for Will Graham and Will Graham alone.

Hannibal would then devour him. Head to toes. It would be like Hell taking over paradise. The conquering of a great good by the unbashful powers of evil. He would love that. And, if Will returned his feelings, he could smite him as Michael did to Lucifer. Hannibal would let him do anything he liked.

He would call his name like a mantra, pray to him like a god. Worship Will at the altar of lust that almost killed him. 

But that would be ifthere was a next time.

Hannibal was sad that this all was ethereal. He’d have to make more than one sketch.

Will stirred in his sleep. The doctor perked up at the noise. Will had flipped himself onto his back and little droplets of crimson liquid began to pool at the base of the wound. Hannibal got up to flip him over again as the doorbell rang.

He was in no mood for another guest. A pounding of a fist came from downstairs before the house fell back into a silent stupor. Will started snoring as fluid began to fall into his throat again. Hannibal rolled his eyes and moved the sleeping brunette onto his side before leaving to go to the door.

Hannibal pretended to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he flung the door open to see a very excited Katz.

“Did you do it?” She asked him eagerly, inviting herself in.

“Katz it’s -,” He stared back to the clock in the hall, “Six in the morning.”

“I know, I know - it’s early. However, I couldn’t wait to hear what you did and you didn't give me your phone number. Which is rude. How was I supposed to get ahold of you? Was I supposed to just wait for the next time Jack asked you back on the job? Cause that would have been like a week, and I don’t think I could wait that long.”

“I understand, Katz. But you need to remember that I have a job outside of what Jack invites me to investigate.”

“Dude, it’s Saturday. Even shrinks get weekends off, right?”

Hannibal shrugged and lead her into the kitchen. Katz smiled devilishly with delight that he had not automatically ushered her out. “Lucky for you.” He got out a tub of Folger’s and scooped the coffee grounds into the machine, letting it whirl to life as he reluctantly waited for his companion to tell him everything she thought.

“So,” she batted her eyelashes. “Did he make a move?”

“No.” He replied.

Katz frowned. “But you had it all. You had dinner planned, you're great friends, and it’s obvious that he wants you. I mean, he did choose you over me. I’m usually the only hot person in the office, but I know how it feels to be rejected. It’s a hard pill to swallow.”

“He didn’t reject me.”

“No?”

“He left early. Didn’t even finish his meal. Got so caught up in somethings. One of his dogs. Winston? And he left before I could clean the table.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Didn’t even give me a chance. Does this mean the wager is still on?” Katz's expression twisted into a somber look.

“I guess. Never expect that to happen, Dr.Lecter. I feel sorry for you.”

“Don’t be.” He chimed in from the coffee maker. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“I’m good.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Dr. Lecter. I was really hyped to hear that Will finally got his act together, you know. Finally found something to reveal in, loosen a little, but it appears he's more strung up than I thought. Hope whatever happened to his dog was worth missing out on a night with hot-shit-Hannibal.”

Hannibal coughed at the name and grimaced at her. Katz had a way of making things sound worse than what they were. Probably just the morbid atmosphere of the Morgue getting into her head. No doubt, when she closed her eye, Katz still saw the cadavers on the aluminum shelves.

“Thank you, Katz.” He responded.

She flattened her frown and fiddled with the pop socket on her phone before replying. “I guess the bet is still on, but if you feel defeated already we can call a forfeit.”

“No, thank you. I’m not a quitter.”

“Whatever you say, sir. It’s just - ,” Katz stared daggers into him. “I’m going to figure out your angle. What makes you better than me? Is Will Graham all gay or is he bisexual? Did ya’ll even talk about sex?”

“No, Katz. I didn’t really get to hear his side of the story. He has a hard time opening up to me. As his psychiatrist, he finds the situation between me and him complicated. Surely, you can understand?”

“I see.”

“So, do you want to stay over for the rest of my Saturday or do you have something better to do?”

“Ah.” She pointed a finger at him, “I get the hint. I’ll see you soon, Hannibal. Wait, before I go, here’s my number.” Katz extended a business card towards Hannibal.

‘Beverly Katz’ was scrawled out onto the eggshell, laminated card. ‘Behavioral Crime Unit’ and her phone number was etched in faux silver in the corner.

“Impressive, Beverly. Are these new?”

“Yeah, I got them last week. You should totally invest in some; You totally look like the type of guy that would have a couple.”

“Won’t let you down, Katz.” Hannibal flipped the card over in his hand to see if there was more information on the back. Seeing nothing, he deposited it into his pocket. “Please don’t let my downfall ruin your weekend. If anything, I feel that you might still have a chance at winning.”

“Really?” Beverly adjusted her coat and made her way back to the door. “Thanks, Hannibal. I thought you might be a little sore about it, but by golly, you’re a champ. No wonder Will likes you. You’re a fucking emotionless rock.”

Hannibal didn’t know if he should take that as a compliment or not, but he chose to ignore it as he led Katz outside. “If you see Will, could you please send him my regards.”

“Sure thing, Dr.Lecter. It's the least I can do. Oh, and don’t forget to text me. It doesn’t have to be about Will, you know. I’ll try to drive down to Wolf Trap this weekend. To check in on him, of course.” The women winked at him and made her way down the driveway. Hannibal didn’t mourn her absence.

If Katz went through with what she was going to do, then the doctor would have to get Will home before the end of the day. His stitches wouldn’t be invisible. The private investigator would probably be a wreck. Even though the cut was closed from the outside, the internal damage was still present, and Hannibal didn’t want Will to go through the experience of drowning in his own blood again.

Making his way up the stair, Dr.Lecter considered keeping Will.

He could tend to his wounds but it would take at least a couple of weeks for the injury to heal entirely. Then there was the nasty business of the scar.

Hannibal opened the door to the guest bedroom and saw everything in order. The sunlight peeking through the curtains illuminated the room in yellow rays, making the marks on Will’s chest and neck all the more visible. They would go away faster than the laceration but it was still risky.

If Hannibal drove to Virginia tonight then it was possible that Katz would see Will in his altered state, and with him being the last person to have seen Mr. Graham, suspicion would fall onto Hannibal. Couldn’t have that.

He could always just drop Will into the wilderness. He was a hunter, it wasn’t a far-off scenario that Will could’ve got into an accident with a territorial buck or came into contact with something more dangerous, like the Chesapeake Ripper.

Hannibal thought he could pull that off. He shimmied his arms underneath Will’s head and legs, picking him off the bed bridal-style. Slowly, the doctor carried the sleeping man out of the crime scene and into the garage. He was glad that he didn’t park on the curb like he was fond of doing. With the car in an enclosed space, Hannibal had the ability to maneuver the private investigator without having to worry if anyone was watching. He chucked the life-less mass into the backseat, draping Will across the leather. To prevent him from falling into the floor, Hannibal buckled him into all three seatbelts.

That would do in a pinch.

Will squirm, uncomfortable with his new position. Hannibal pitied him, leaving the garage to grab the pillow Will was so fond of from the bedroom. The doctor viewed himself as a benevolent deity. Carefully, he lowed Graham’s head onto the down and Will let out a huff. When the empath was all bent into shape, Hannibal closed the car and went to open the garage door. With a strained heave, the door went up into the ceiling.

Hannibal thought he considered all the options but across the street in a lot was Will’s Honda. The doctor groaned, stepping outside into the winter air. He was glad that Katz didn’t recognize Graham's vehicle. If she did then his alibi for the night would’ve been doomed. Hannibal closed the garage door behind him and staggered over the snow on his lawn to the car. He rubbed a warm hand over the driver’s side window and eyed the content inside.

Nothing remarkable. Pack of cigarettes, paper sheets of Tylenol, and a phone charger laid in the front seats. There were no items that identified it as Will Graham’s car. Besides the license plate. Hannibal unstuck himself from the car to look at the number on the front of the Honda. He could get a drill and simply take them off. He could get a souvenir after all.

Then again, it was a Saturday morning and people wouldn’t be leaving their homes in this condition. His neighbors could hear and there’s a chance that they could see Hannibal doing his odd activities. The shrink nonchalantly walked back to his house and open the front door to spy on the clock in the hallway.

It was seven now.

If he was going to do this, he’d have to be quick.

Not sparing a second, Hannibal made short work of the plates, trying his best to make as little noise as possible as the industrial drill unscrewed the hinges with a mechanical buzz. After only thirty minutes, the numbers where gone.

Placing them onto the cabinet in the hallway, Hannibal was finally able to continue his scheme.

\----

Everything was going swimmingly. He looked inconspicuous. Just an ordinary man out early on a weekend.

Hannibal liked the sight of snow-covered spruce trees lining the highway as he made his way to Wolf Trap. He’d have to pour some more money into the conservation efforts of the forest in Virginia. They could plant more trees. Make the woods denser - more opaque.

Will spoke in his sleep. “Hnngh, Ha,” he would murmur into the leather. “Heuk.” Hannibal found these noises alarming and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. 

He thought he might be obsessing over the small things but he wanted to assess the issue before it turned into something worse. Hannibal looked back to the private investigator and second-guessed his premonition. Will wasn’t in pain. He was splayed in a knot of limbs and tightly wrapped around the seatbelts.

This wasn’t going to be the healthy thing to do. Hannibal knew he shouldn’t be this lost in his presents but Will made him feel like he was at the end of his rope. With delicate movements, he made his way into the backseat and crept on top of him. He removed his coat and tucked it into Will’s smaller frame. Leaning down to cradle the man underneath him.

“Ha – Han.” Will called out.

“Go back to sleep, Will.” Hannibal peppered soft kisses to his cheek. He smoothed a hand through Will’s hair, trying to calm him down. During therapy sessions, Graham had told him that he was prone to nightmares. Hannibal wondered if he could’ve triggered them with their masochistic adventure. He’d have to prescribe him some Melatonin. “Do you hear me, Will? I have you.” He whispered.

“Hannibal.”

“Dear,” It wasn’t rational, Hannibal thought. He mouthed sweet nothings into Graham’s skin, savoring the taste of the words. Will buried himself into Hannibal’s form, continuing to say his name in broken English. The doctor embraced him, laying together, side-by-side on the seat. “Dear, Will. I’m so sorry that I’ve done this to you. When this blows over, I’ll make it up to you. I know you fantasize about me; I promise you can have me any way you like.”

“Ha-.”

Hannibal hushed him. He tilted the dilapidated man’s face up to his and pressed them together in a kiss, holding him there. Will groaned into him. Hannibal smiled.

He ground into Will, moaning at the friction. “Hannibal.” The psychiatrist anchored his leg between the private investigator’s, earning a groan. The force began to rock the light frame of the car.

Hannibal silenced Will, locking him into another kiss. He was more ravenous this time. Devouring the smaller man’s mouth in his own. Teeth bit into muscle as Hannibal allowed himself to take over the interaction - his tongue exploiting all it could. He cupped his hands into Will’s curls, trying to get a better handle. He felt his hardness against the fabric of his pants. “Will.” He breathed shallowly. “Let me have you."

Then a police baton knocked on the car window. Hannibal tried to compose himself.

“Sir, are you okay?” A voice called from the outside. The doctor was more than grateful that the windows were still covered in frost. Hannibal didn’t get off Will, instead, running a hand through his hair to preserve the mid-sex glow. “Sir?”

He smeared a hand across the window to reveal the officer. She looked at him with wide eyes. “Can I help you?” He said a little more than annoyed. The figure under him was still.

“I saw your car pulled over.” She squinted to get a better look inside and froze. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”

“Yeah, we’re more than a little busy,” He trailed his eyes down her and saw the name tag, “Officer Macintosh.” He swirled her name in the air with a sultry tone. She stepped away from the car.

“I’m so sorry, Sir, but you can’t be doing this on the side of the road.”

“Why not?” Hannibal genuinely wanted to know.

“It’s a public safety hazard. Your vehicle poses an obstacle to the roadway and in this weather, with the ice and snow, it’s more than likely a car could hit you.” Officer Macintosh gestured to the slick roads and back to them. “There’s a hotel about eighteen miles up Baltimore-Washington parkway, near the Nature Preserve. Can’t miss it.”

Hannibal considered her offer. If he went to a hotel then there would evidence that he was in the area. However, the nature reserve sounded promising. “The Nature Preserve?”

“Yeah, North Tract, big woods to the south. You can’t miss it. Tree city down there.” Officer Macintosh looked worried. “Is your 'friend' okay?” Hannibal looked down at the somewhat ravaged Will Graham.

“We’ve been going at it since last night. I’ve taken the energy out of him.” He’d seen the way her face morphed into surprise when she saw them. It wasn’t a farfetched idea to presume that sex unnerved Macintosh. Hannibal smiled his devil’s smile up at her. She blushed. It was apparent that she wanted to leave a soon as possible.

“I’m so sorry to bother ya’ll.” Macintosh changed the subject and put her baton back into its carrier on her waist. “Please move your car somewhere safer.”

“Will do.” Hannibal popped the backseat door closed and stood proudly before her. He would shake her hand but it would spoil his new persona. “Eighteen miles, you say?”

“Yeah.” Macintosh started walking back to her cruiser. “Next time I see you out here it’s a ticket.”

Hannibal rolled his eyes, unlocking the driver’s side. “Got it.” He fiddled with the rearview mirror to see if the officer was looking up his plates. However, she appeared to be backing out onto the highway with haste. Hannibal sighed into the steering wheel. Will groaned. “Sorry about that.” Hannibal spoke into the cold air, “Soon”, and he followed the patrol car off of the shoulder.

The doctor wouldn't allow stubborn loose ends to slip through his grasp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does everyone else agree that Hannibal would drink Folger's? I know he's a classy dude but I feel like coffee is the one thing he doesn't really care too much about. Also, Ivory soap??? Do they even have Ivory soap in the north or is Irish spring big Kahuna? Idk. I'm in one of those yee haw places, we don't get out much. Sorry for the smut being constantly interrupted. Not really comfortable writing non-con. Will make the consensual scene more detail though.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is in this one along with actual, consensual sex and more soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year. We're in a new decade - I think it's time to update this piece of work.

Snow crunched under tires as a car treaded over gravel the following afternoon. Katz had gotten off work and went straight with the Virginia traffic as she made her way to Wolf Trap. It was slow goings - stop and go under a setting sun that was reflected off the snow at just an angle that it would shoot into the driver side windshield. Katz pulled over at a 7-11 and Mcdonald's combo when she couldn’t take it anymore and bought one of those As-Seen-On-TV polarized glasses with her big gulp. It wasn’t the best solution for the problem but it was the cheapest. She crashed into her cold car feeling a little redeemed and fumbled with her keys. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar car. Katz swerved over to the vehicle. “Jack?” 

Jack was laboring over a bag of Cheetos puffs, caught off guard. “Jesus Christ!” He composed himself and rolled down the window. “What the fuck, Katz?”

“Sorry, sir, I just didn’t expect you -“

”Didn’t expect me to eat?” He barked.

”No, sir.” She folded the glasses in her hands nervously. “Meeting you here, not in Quantico.”

Jack relaxed, “Ha, I know I’m pulling your leg.” He laughed and chucked the Cheetos bag into the backseat. “If you want to talk, park your shit. I’m going to McDonald’s”.

In abrupt movements, Jack got out of his low riding Jeep and walked across the parking lot. Katz followed the burly man to the restaurant.

Coke in hand, Jack sat at a booth in the corner. ”Sir,” Katz called to him as she took the seat opposite to him, “Sir, I was just -“

”On your way?” 

“Yeah, and I don’t want to bother you or anything so I should really go-“

”And see Will?” Jack furrowed his brow. Katz was confused. 

“Yeah... I was just on my way over to his house to check in on him,” 

Jack took a quiet sip of his drink. “You’ve really lost your polish, Beverly? Have you heard the news?” He put down his coke and pulled out his phone. “I have.” He opened up an article and handed Katz the phone.

“Five hours ago, one of our cruisers gets a hit from the local police north of Bowie. I called Graham to spot on it - he’s not answering my calls - Hannibal rang and said something happened Friday night. I don’t know what but it’s suspicious, right? So I call Alana to see if there were some funky stuff with Will again. She said that he said he’s been having lapses in time, days where he can’t remember what’s happening.”

He sipped his coke as Katz eyed the article: FBI investigator found half-dead in North tract nature reserve. “God.” She gagged as the news restrict none of the graphic images of Will’s corpse-like body being shoved into a cop car. “That’s - what happened?”   
  


She handed Jack back his phone. “ I don’t know. All I do know is that he’s holed up in an emergency medical center now.” Jack did a quick scan of the images before he turned it off. “He’s in really bad shape, Katz.”

Katz let out a quiet sob. “I -“ she used her sleeve to wipe her face. “I was going to check on him.”

Jack sighed, “I know, but you’re also one of the last people to have seen him.”   
  


“He was fine.” She spat at Jack before getting a grip and saying, ”He was his usual self at least.” 

“I’m still confused, Katz. People don’t go out and actively almost die.” 

"What do you expect me to say?" Katz stood up. " He hasn't been in the right mind since Garret Jacob Hobbs. Did you think that he'd let go of that shit?" She began to throw her hands about wildly in a huff. She kicked the table and then shoved her hands into her pockets. "He fucking killed a guy, Jack. Will had a lot on his shoulders."

"- and that gives him the right to go romping through the woods for days, starving and frostbitten, with stitches in his neck?"

"Sir..." Katz narrowed her eyes at him. She was at a loss of words. 

"Katz," Jack got up from his chair and spoke softly, " The forensics team on site found some things I would like to run by you. Freddie lounds had already posted some of this shit so it's not opaque to the public and the news is already drawing circles around it." He shifted his weight and leaned down to whisper to the smaller women, "They think it could've been the Chesapeake Ripper." Katz staggered back with her hands covering her mouth. "Katz." Jack stabled her, "He's been gored. He's been surgically stitched back together again. It's a shot in the dark, but the evidence does paint a connection between -" 

"DOn't. Just don't."

"All we need is the antlers."

Katz sunk back into her plastic seat with the truth sinking into her. She tried to push aside the human in her and focus on this with her analytical brain, but it was hard to remove the fact that this happened to Will. A person she knew, a person she liked, a person. He wasn't another cadaver for her to dissect, he was still alive. She sighed, "Why is he still alive?" 

"I don't know."

Katz groaned and picked her purse off the ground. "So, where can I find him?"

"St.Magdalene's. It was the, ah, closest hospital. You can follow me."

\---

Lying in rapture on a hospital bed, Will woke up in a hot sweat.

He rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. The white socks on his feet were soaked in god-knows-what and Jack was sitting by the door, making the situation seem like another Monday afternoon at the office.

What a night, Will thought to himself. He tried to place what happened as he casually picked at his teeth but nothing came to surface.

He remembers waking up in worst scenarios than this though. There was one time when he was much younger that stuck out to him in particular. He had gotten wasted off cheap booze and decided to go fishing. At night, a school night - one mistake lead to another and Will ended up with many sparkly lures hooked into his faces without him realizing it.

‘Looks like you've made a memory’, he also remembers his dad saying to him when he was in ER the next morning. Will chuckled. He missed being able to control the hog-shit sweeping through his brain.

"What's funny?" Jack muttered. Will wrapped his brain for a suitable response.

"I'm just thinking about how many times I've woken up in an ER room." 

"Well," Jack scowled as he moved to Will's bedside, "At least you're awake." He placed a hand on his shoulder and removed it just as fast. 

It seemed to spark a gross gloss over Graham and he shuddered. All the dormant aches leeched their way into his old bones. He felt oddly violated. Will suddenly felt the urge to know what occurred. It kicked up vague feelings of warmth. Flames of a being no longer himself. Like a fever, the moments in a sunken dream were present on his mind but only appearing in shadows. Shadows on his wrist. Shadows on his neck. A brand cemented into his very senses – in the sulfur on his tongue. Graham visibly shook, "At least I'm awake." 

"Will - You've been through Hell."

"Feels like that."

"You don't understand," Jake looked everywhere but Will before returning his gaze, "You've had an episode. I don't know about you and your problems - that's for Dr.Lecter - but from what I've heard and what the FBI knows, it's that this is a shit situation. You've -" The director choked on his words, "It's hard for me to say."

"I have any vague idea." Will lifted his head up to stare at the door. "There this scratching in my throat."

"Yeah... You're throats been slit and - stitched together..."

Will's lips thinned, "I thought I just had strep..."

Jack coughed into his arm and spaced himself from Will. "We don't conclusively know all the details other than the obvious, but it suspected you've also been bled." He added, "Heavily..."

The private investigator laid there in silence for a while as Jack came and left the room. He brought in more officers and another agent to evaluate his condition and get a statement but as soon as everything was said and done Jack left with them.

Will was all alone in his pale blue room. He still didn't understand how his goring fell under federal jurisdiction but he was just glad that the people were on his side for a change. Freddie Lounds and her Sherman's March to the Sea with every and all bad things that happen with Will Graham made Will understandably self-conscious. Being on the sympathetic side of that scorched earth philosophy felt good.

He flipped in his sterile covers to look out the window. Frost had made it hard to look out of but patches of grey streets and dead trees shown through. Cars drove by as clueless as Will was to where his missing quarts of blood where. There had to be a nice little apple-colored spot on a tree somewhere or a splash of red in the snow. His invisible signature, he thought, putrifying.

The smell, iron rusting in the sun, had to be thick. Will couldn't tell if he had the odor but it was highly likely that it was still lingering on his skin. He reached for his neck and felt the bumps on his throat through the bandages. They were straight as an arrow and lined half the circumference in a perfect row. It was impressive and disgusting at the same time.

Will felt thankful that he didn't remember the event but his curiosity was eating at him. It chewed at the burns, the fire on his mind, the feeling in his skull. Silk binds trapping his bones in place as somebody ripped him open. 

A light knock echoed from the door and Will was thrown out of his thoughts as Dr.Lecter walked into the room with two Tupper-ware bowls.

"Will." The doctor said a little breathless. Will wondered if he took the stairs.

"Doctor." The private investigator smiled at how familiar the exchange felt. "Do you come here often?"

Hannibal chuckled as he placed the bowls onto the tray table. "I see you haven't lost your humor." He said as he slowly pushed the table closer to Will.

"I'm trying my best given the circumstance."

Hannibal sighed and pulled up a chair, "Well, you are doing great." He eyed the mangled man before licking his lips and carrying on, "I brought you a late dinner. Your real doctor says you can't have anything solid so I tried to accommodate for that."

Will popped the lid off his bowl and got a good whiff of it, "Tomato soup?"

"Not this time. It's black Czarina; Duck's blood pureed with cherries, pears, and honey. It's a traditional dish from Lithuania that is served to men who've won the hand of their beloved."

"Who did I win?" Will asked curiously as he ate. 

Hannibal grinned as he gingerly placed a spoon into Will's hand. "Czarina is also really good on a sour stomach. I thought it would suit your needs best."

"Thanks, it's really good." 

"I've got you some comforts from home in my car as well. A lit bit of everything from everyone." He took a sip of his soup. " Times like these when one comes to truly appreciate the small things in their daily lives." 

"Yeah, everything seems off. I miss the noise of my classroom."

"Noise is one of the many sensories that alert us when somethings wrong. It is understandable that you'd feel anxious."

Will looked up to meet Hannibal's eyes, "But it's not just that, Hannibal, everything right now seems wrongs."

"That's understandable. You're mortified from your experience."

"I mean... There's something else." He tried to choose his words carefully. "I keep getting these - phantom feelings," Will replied. He was uncomfortable with saying what was bothering him so vividly but he would sacrifice his comfort if it meant finding out what happened. "I get this strange taste on my tongue and," He hesitated, ", a constricting force on my wrist."

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Hannibal clenched his jaw. 

"No, I - I don't know how to place it. It just feels like I've been ruined."

"Will," Hannibal got up and lingered over to the side of Will's bed. He carefully closed his fingers over the investigator's arm trying to comfort him. "What happened was sacrilegious and wrong but you will get through this. Jack will probably have the madman in epoxy by the time he comes back."

Ivory bones bristled against Will's chin as Hannibal fixed him up to his gaze. The doctor stared into those blue eyes. The same eyes he ripped open and gutted. He remembered how his blood tasted and how the soup's sweetness damped what little oxygen was left in it. Will was stagnated as Hannibal drew back under his veil and sat back down. He was unsure if he could ever truly repurchase Will's love again.

"Hannibal." A light whisper came from the bed. "Come back."

The doctor shifted, "You're startled, Will, you need time to rest."

"Hannibal, come over here." Will patted the empty space next to him. Hesitantly, Dr.Lecter approached him again. "Sit." He commanded in his broken voice and Hannibal sat down. "People have been saying I should be dead. Everyone seems to be on my side for now but I'm afraid it doesn't matter. I still feel in danger." Tears welled up in his eyes and he paused to regain his composure, "I really need you right now, Hannibal." The doctor instinctively raised a hand to brush the tears of his face but was intersected by one of Will's rouge fingers as it lazily hooked them together. 

"I don't want to be your friend," Hannibal broke. 

Will laughed dryly, "I don't think anybody does." He brought Hannibal's hand back up to his face as he stirred under his grasp. 

"Will, I -" The doctor started. The glint in Will's eyes reminded him of their more venereal time in the kitchen. He remembered wanting to tease him, edge him to insanity. He also remembered his promise, how he'd never hurt Will again. "I'll be there for you, Will, but not in the way you want me to be." The investigator's eyes drooped and he let Hannibal's hand fall to his collar bone. "I mean-"

"- I know what you meant." Will shrugged and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Hannibal clawed into his collar, evoking Will to look back at him, "You're the last person who should be sorry. I've done nothing to stop this from happening, I should be sorry..." Hannibal traced his carotid artery until it hit the edge of his bandages, leaning down into Will's ear to whisper, "But I'm not." The hairs on the back of Will's neck stood as Hannibal's hot breath curled onto the delicate skin there. 

"What are you saying? It’s indignifying." Will murmured into the inches between them. 

"I'm apathetic to this situation."

Will chuckled nervously and drew out, "Which means-?". Hannibal pressed himself deeper into Will, pressuring all the fragile wounds on his delicate frame. 

"I don't really care to see you like this. Compressed into some second-rate hospital bed, miles away from anyone who gives a damn."

"So?" Will raised an octave as Hannibal disturned the laceration on Will's neck.

"I want to be your Ganymede," He paused to look back at Will's face. He couldn't believe how much he loved the full, undivided attention of those's broken baby blue eyes. "Domineered." No one else could ever have that gaze. "Subdued," He got off the sheets and made haste to look out the door, before turning around to connect their eyes again, "Submissive."

"I don't understand." Will straightened up trying to match Hannibal's confidence. 

The doctor walked over to the rack and got his coat."The eromenos to your erastes." He then redid his scarf, "You're Malakia."

"I don't know these terms."

"Do you trust me?" 

"You're the only person that doesn't look at me like I'm already decomposing," Will swallowed audibly as Hannibal opened the room back up to the hallway before adding a hesitant, "I trust you won't kill me."

Hannibal grinned at him knowingly and closed the door.

The investigator knew why he was alive.

Will got up from his bed, grabbed the IV drip and limped over to the window to see if he could spy Hannibal going to his car.

Will knew how to sympathize with a serial killer. The manipulation, the casual violence, the intensity they have towards their prey, the fearlessness. Hannibal was all that and charming - feline to the centimeter. All he needed was someone to direct those talents at. 

The private investigator was surprised to see as many cop cars in the parking lot and the lonely and far between officer guarding the door. Though, if Jack was truly worried about the Chesapeake ripper than he should have monitored the guest list. An hour past and Hannibal returned along with a few officers who volunteered to help. They placed an assortment of bouquets around the room with gift baskets and the general Get-Well-Soon ballons down by a raffle of shirts and the comforter from his house.

The flames in Will's mind want to scream at the cops, to tell them how they were aiding the Ripper, but he didn't say a word as they worked.

The doctor wished them goodbye before locking the door and turning off the lights. The evening glowed dimly outside along with lamps on the street as they cast streaks on the two of them. The darkness shined blue as Hannibal slowly made his way towards the window. 

"I read in Cosmo's that I need your permission." He stated as he looked out onto the night sky.

"What consent did you have when you -"

"I realized that I made a mistake."

Will laughed a little too loud, "A mistake?", he tilted his head, " You think that I wouldn't have recognized the signs? The narcissism, psychopathy, and Machiavellianism? The benign sadism." 

"I know how you feel about it and I want you to know that I don't put the blame on anybody else but myself, Will."

Will huffed and twisted up on his side to look at the silhouette in the light. "I doubt you feel remorse."

Hannibal turned on his heels, "You wouldn't be alive if I didn't feel remorse." he whispered as he leered down onto the broken man. "If I didn't care that Victorinox would be rosining with your vocal cords by now." Will shuddered as Hannibal grasped his hand with delicate gloved fingers, pulling it up to his lips to kiss the knuckles. "I would have taken your hands as you felt up my waist - make you pledge to never please anyone else but me as I maul you into unconsciousness."

He held their hands together in the dark silence. Will was frozen in fear as Hannibal got on his knees, using his free hand to pull out a small blue box. "Hannibal," he warned.

"I need you to see I feel deeply about this." He bowed his head as he put the box into Will's hand, "I want to make a covenant."

Will's eye grew wide as he flipped the tiny fastener to reveal a ring.

"Silver represents the moon. It embodies divinity." He met Will's view, "I want it to symbolize you. I want to cement my promise in a material form." Hannibal let go and rose to his feet.

"I -" Will stared down onto the shiny metal in awe."I can't accept this, Hannibal."

"You don't have to. I wanted you to know that I fully and completely submit to you. You don't even have to acquiesce." The doctor placed the ring on him. In the moonlight, it wrapped a halo around his skinny joints. Hannibal let go and then rose to his feet. 

"I still can't forgive you, Hannibal," Will spoke softly. 

"We're going at your pace." The doctor sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand holding him up and the other motioning to smooth the hair away from Will's eyes. "When I look into your eyes I want nothing more than to see them staring back at me." Hannibal sketches the skin under him, making his way into the investigator's curls, "I want your curiosity, and in turn, you have my soul." 

Will blushed as Hannibal united them in a light kiss. Feather-soft and warm. Hannibal could taste the honey on his tongue. He moaned as the doctor carefully bit into his lip, wanting to procure a sensation, not blood. Will wrapped his damaged arms around Hannibal's shoulder.

The taller man snickered and deepened the kiss, halting any accusations Will had to offer. The brunette fell back into his pillows as Hannibal pushed him down with his weight, careful not to press the nurse-call button. He retracted his head to ask, "Do I have your permission, Will?"'

"I thought you were apathetic to this situation?" he larked. 

Hannibal shook his head, "It's inconvenient, but from now on, I serve to satisfy you."

"Then where would be the most satisfying?"

Hannibal glowered at him, "No place like the present." The doctor leaned down to distribute kisses along Will's stubble but was stopped.

Will tucked his ring finger into Hannibal's shirt and began to remove it. "Let me." Hannibal yielded to his tender hands as they took their time undressing him. Will exposed his torso before commanding him to get off. Hannibal did so reluctantly. "I want you to watch." Will lifted himself off the bed. Hannibal watched restlessly as he slipped the hospital gown from his petite body, throwing it onto a bouquet of black orchids. 

"I could've done that," Lecter insisted.

"I know but I asked you to watch." Will splayed out under the covers as Hannibal prowled in the darkness. "If I'm silver, what does that make you?"

The doctor thought for a second, "I would be gold, an offering to your divinity." Will seemed indifferent to that answer as he trailed a hand down his own ribs. Hannibal gritted his teeth, "I'm offering myself to you. Why won't you let me do anything?"

"Because, Dr.Lecter, I remember you telling me you'd never give me the gift of repetition." He stroked his length and milked a whimper from the other man. "I don't trust your promise but I know better than to doubt your word." Will groan as he worked himself. 

"This covenant - the ring, it is my commitment. Please let me demonstrate that to you!"

"Say it again," Will commanded through labored breaths.

"Please! I want to -" Hannibal's mouth went dry when Will moaned loudly, edging himself closer to orgasm, picking up his pace. Sweat started to glisten off his temples. "Please," the doctor cried out again and the investigator dropped his hand.

"Beg me."

Hannibal wheezed out the last of his sanity and smashed himself into Will's lips, pleading in between kisses. "I want to please you till you find no other use for me. Please let me touch you." He scraped his teeth with Will at his mercy. "Will." Graham wrapped his legs around Hannibal and allowed him to be lifted off the bed and pinned to the bleached walls. The doctor anchored him in place as he devoured the smaller man. 

"Hold me," was all Will responded as he took Hannibal's face in his ringed hand. With another quick kiss, he pulled back and laced it around his cock and began to pump while the doctor could do nothing but watch. The investigator through his head back in ecstasy. "Hannibal!" he cried out, triggering Lecter to attack his throat hungrily. He wanted him to ellisite as much noise out of Will within the power he was given.

Eventually, the bandage on his neck began to weep and soak the doctor's face in the ruby blood coloring Will's skin. Hannibal didn't mind. He licked and mouthed sweet words into the laceration, seizing a stitch and causing Will to climax with the pain. 

Will's back arched and fell almost lifeless into Hannibal's strong grasp. The doctor licked a line over the wound. "Hannibal," Graham coughed. 

Lecter kissed his puffy lips and placed him back into the bed. "Is my promise palpable to you now?" he drawled as he pulled the covers over the dilapidated mass. Hannibal removed the rest of his shirt and through it into the trash can. He hesitated in front of the window as he stared back on his reflection. Bloody, disheveled, and aroused.

He grabbed one of Will's spares from the pile and pulled it over his neck. It didn't match his suit jacket but it was better than nothing. The investigator folded up in a cold pretzel across the room.

Hannibal turned to look back at him, red blood black in the moonlight. He regarded Will with the eyes of someone who understood the true price of meat and saw him as more. The doctor collected the gown off the flowers and used it to wipe his face before depositing it alongside his ruined shirt. 

"Hannibal, please... Don't leave." Will timidly called to him. 

"I need to get a nurse to replace your bandages."

Will frown. Silence fell between them as Hannibal shuffled around, getting Graham a fresh set of clothes and assembling the Tupper-ware bowls. When he felt prepared, the doctor went out into the hall and flagged down a nurse on the night shift. 

It took a hot second but the nurse outfitted Will with fresh cloth and tape. She sincerely asked Will to restain from abrupt movements before pulling Hannibal outside to evaluate what Will did that caused something like a stitch to loosen.

He half-assed a reply and she left to update the in-patient forum. The doctor sighed. A clock on the help desk showed it was well past eleven.

Hannibal had work tomorrow and his day was more than booked but if Will wanted him here, then he would stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of an era, I've finally finished it. It's been a journey and I thank you all l for the support you've given give.  
I hope you had a great time reading this!

**Author's Note:**

> Comment bruh, I want to know what you think.


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